Nakita's Universe
by bemj11
Summary: This idea came to me while I was writing You've Met Her Before. Chekov has a daughter named Nakita. This is her story. Chapter Eleven.
1. Two

Hikaru Sulu stared in shock at the man before him. He had known Pavel Chekov for years, had witnessed fits of temper and bouts of fury, but he had never before seen the man in such a state as he currently was.

He looked as if he hadn't slept in a week. Or eaten. He looked as if food or sleep were the last things on his mind.

It was completely understandable.

Pavel Chekov's world had just fallen apart around him.

Sulu could sympathize. He knew the feeling, though he also supposed he had been comparatively lucky. Emi had died in childbirth, leaving Sulu to raise Demora as best as he could by himself, but she had not chosen to leave.

The woman Chekov had married, the woman he had loved and adored, had left. She had simply packed her things and disappeared.

And she had left him with a two year old and a broken heart.

The two year old was currently playing in the bedroom with four year old Demora. It had been Demora who had run to answer the door, who had enthusiastically greeted "Uncle Pavel" and had noticed and quickly demanded to know what was wrong.

Sulu had taken one look at his friend and quietly asked Demora to take her "cousin" to her room to play. Demora, for once, hadn't said a word as she obeyed.

The story had quickly come out, and now Sulu was at a loss.

What on earth _could_ he say?

He pulled the other man close, and wrapped him in a hug, swallowing back tears of his own as Chekov sobbed into his shoulder.

And Sulu had nothing to say to the man that for many years had been brother in all but actual fact. What _did _you say to something like that?

"What am I going to do?" Chekov whispered into his shoulder.

Sulu didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. He simply let the younger man cry himself out, then fixed him a cup of tea.

"Thanks." Chekov finally managed. "Sorry."

Sulu rolled his eyes. "Just returning the favor." He pointed out.

Chekov nodded uncertainly. "What do I do?" He asked again.

Sulu sighed. "Get up. Go on living in spite of the hole in your heart." He said honestly. "Tell yourself that it gets easier."

"Does it?"

Sulu shook his head. "Not really. You just learn to deal with it."

Chekov focused on his tea for several minutes. "What about the girl?" He asked.

Sulu shrugged. "Boarding schools." He suggested, knowing full well Chekov wouldn't even think about it. Chekov shook his head vehemently. "_Your_ parents." When Chekov didn't reply, Sulu cautiously suggested. "She could stay here."

"Thanks." Chekov said softly, though Sulu knew he wasn't considering that either. In Chekov's mind, any of these choices would feel too much like abandoning the child.

Sulu shrugged. "They still after you to teach at the Academy? You could do that." It was what he himself was doing. "I know for a fact they were talking about trying to convince you when you came to earth again."

"I vas considering _taking_ classes," Chekov said slowly, "before."

"Command?" Sulu asked.

"Security." Chekov replied absently, though Sulu could see he was starting to pull himself back together.

"So teach for a few years, until she's ready for school." Sulu said resignedly. He was echoing what was going through Chekov's head, and he knew it. "Then take your classes. You'll be busy, but you'll still be there for her more than if you were out in space."

Chekov sighed. "I just don't know, Hikaru." He said wearily.

"I know." Sulu told him. "I know."

Disclaimer: Star Trek does not belong to me.


	2. Three

"Papa?" A small voice drifted down the hall. Pavel Chekov set down the book he had just picked up and went to his daughter's bedroom. The three-year old stared up him at with wide brown eyes.

"Da?" He asked. "Yes?"

"I'm thirsty. Can I have a drink of water?"

"May I." He corrected. "Yes, you may, but hurry. You are supposed to be in bed." He watched in amusement as the child climbed out of bed and scampered off towards the kitchen. He followed behind her.

Pavel got her a cup from the cabinet and poured just a little bit of water in it before handing it to Nakita. "Spaceeboh." She said. She drank the water and gave the cup back to her father. She returned to bed somewhat more slowly than she had left it. Pavel tucked her in once more, kissed her forehead, then made his way back to the living room.

He settled down on the couch, picked his book back up, and-

"Papa?"

He set the book aside once more. "Yes?" He asked, again going to her room. "What is it, pet?"

She grinned up at him rather sheepishly. "I forgot to brush my teeth."

He wondered what she _had_ been doing in the bathroom, then, but said, "Go on then. But hurry up."

Teeth brushed, he again tucked her into bed. He had gotten as far as the door before she called to him again. He turned in the doorway. She smiled again. "I need to say my prayers."

They knelt by the bed, and bowed their eyes. Sweetly the child said her prayers.

"_Now I lay me down to sleep,_

_I pray the Lord my soul to keep._

_Thy love go with me through the night,_

_And wake me gently with morning light._

_Amen."_

Once more Pavel put the child to bed. "Now go to sleep." He told her firmly. "It is past your bedtime."

"Yes, Papa." She said reluctantly. He kissed her forehead again and tucked her in. He left the door open a crack to let the light from the bathroom shine through.

He had managed to read one sentence before the summons came again. Pavel sighed, once more set the book aside, and went to see what his daughter wanted.

"You're supposed to be sleeping." He told her.

"I know." She whispered. "But there was a monster."

"A monster?" He asked. She nodded fearfully. "Where?" He asked, turning on the light. She pointed to the closet.

Pavel went over to the closet and opened the door. He peeked inside. "Nope. No monsters in here." He informed her.

"What about under the bed?" She whispered. Pavel closed the closet door and went to the bed. He poked his head below her bed.

"No monsters." He reported. He straightened up, and moved to sit on the edge of her bed. "Monsters don't come here, you know." He whispered.

Nakita was surprised. "They don't?" She asked. "Are you sure?"

"Completely." Pavel replied, still whispering. "You see, they're too scared to come here."

"Who are they scared of, Papa?" She asked.

"Why, who do you think?" Nakita thought for a moment. "You?" She asked. Pavel nodded. Nakita wasn't sure. "Really?" She asked.

"Of course." He replied. "You can ask Hikaru if you don't believe me."

"I will." Nakita decided. "Next time he comes over."

"You do that." Pavel told her fondly. "But for now, you need to sleep. It's late."

She yawned. "But I'm not sleepy." She informed him.

"Oh?" He asked, trying not to laugh.

"No." She insisted. "But maybe if you read me a story, then I would be sleepy."

"Okay." He said. "But then you have to sleep."

"I will." She promised. "Here, read this one." She said, darting over to her bookshelf. Pavel took the book and began reading.

Nakita's eyes soon began to droop, and by the time he had finished, the child was asleep. He quietly stood, put the book back, and went to turn out the light.

The child's eyes flew open. She was wide awake once more. Pavel smiled, and sat back down on the bed. "You need to go to sleep." He said firmly.

Nakita yawned once more. "Will you sing that song, Papa? The one about Granpa used to sing to you when you were little?"

Pavel lay down beside his daughter, and wrapped an arm around her. As he began to sing, she snuggled closer to him. Her eyes closed, and she hummed along for a few notes before she drifted off. Pavel lay there for a few minutes more, singing another lullaby, before he tucked her in for the last time that night, and kissed her on the forehead, and went to the door. The child didn't stir.

Nakita was fast asleep.

"Goodnight." He told her softly.

The child shifted ever so slightly. "Goodnight, Papa." She murmured in her sleep. "I love you."

"I love you too." Her father whispered back. He left the door slightly open, so that the light from the bathroom could shine through.

Disclaimer: Star Trek does not belong to me.


	3. Three: Christmas

Nyota Uhura stood on the porch of one Hikaru Sulu, arms full of packages. She shivered against the wind and maneuvered her packages so she could ring the doorbell.

She was not entirely prepared for the thundering of small feet or the cries of "I'll get it!" and "Nyet! I'll get it!" Nor was she ready when the door was suddenly flung open wide and two small girls stopped short and stared at her.

The older was about four, and of Asian descent, with long dark hair and intelligent dark eyes. She was out of breath and smiling brightly and dressed in jeans and a turtleneck.

The other was three, with brown hair and sparkling brown eyes. She too was out of breath, she too seemed happy, though unlike her companion, she was still in her pajamas.

As if on cue, the two girls shrieked simultaneously and took off running through the house with a chorus of "She's here! She's here!" before they disappeared from view, though Uhura could still hear them both giggling and shrieking gaily.

"Then why don't you let her in?" Someone asked amiably, and Hikaru Sulu appeared from another room. He smiled warmly. "Nyota, glad you could make it. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas." She replied as Sulu ushered her in and relieved her of her packages. "Where's Pavel?"

"He's-" Sulu broke off as the younger girl tore through the room with wide eyes and more shrieks and giggles. She was quickly followe by Pavel Chekov himself, a bundle of clothing in one arm.

He stopped short when he saw Uhura. "Nyota." He said, stepping forward and kissing her on the cheek as he pulled her into a hug. "Merry Christmas." He said. "I wasn't sure if you could make it."

"I wasn't sure either." She admitted. "But here I am."

"Here you are." He agreed. Catching sight of the packages in Sulu's arms, he frowned. "You didn't have to do that." He told her sternly.

"Of course not." She rolled her eyes. "Neither did you." Chekov shifted uncomfortably.

But he quickly recovered. "Of course, as much as we would _all_ like to spend Christmas with you, Nakita has decided she doesn't want to get dressed today, so she is not fit to be seen by company." He winked conspiratorily at Uhura.

"Aww, that's too bad." Uhura said, playing along. "I was really hoping to meet your daughter." She sighed. "I guess I'll just have to keep her present.

The three year old peeked her head around a doorframe. "I'll get dressed." She announced. "Where are my clothes?"

Chekov laughed and swung her up into his arms. Then he carried her off to her room to help her dress. Sulu watched them both go with a smile playing on his lips.

"So, how is he doing?" She asked quietly after the two were out of earshot.

"Better." Sulu replied. "Though before I managed to convince him to have Christmas with us he was pretty down."

Uhura shook her head. "He'll never get over her, you know."

"I know." Sulu agreed grudgingly. "And he doesn't need to be alone at Christmas."

Demora appeared by her father's side, cutting off the chance for further discussion. "Hello." She greeted Uhura with a bright smile. "I'm Demora. I'm four. Who are you? Are you friends with Daddy? Did you really bring us presents? I made you a present. I hope you like it. Do you want to open it now?"

Uhura laughed. "Why don't we wait until Nakita's ready and then we can all open our presents together?" She suggested.

"Okay." Demora agreed as Nakita came bounding back out.

"I _am_ ready. Did she bring us presents? I got her one. Papa says she likes music."

Uhura watched anxiously as the two girls opened their presents. She really hadn't been sure what to get them, and had known better than to ask Sulu or Chekov. They would have been absolutely no help whatsoever. As they unwrapped their presents, it occurred to her that perhaps they might be too young to appreciate their gifts.

"Ooh! A puzzle! Thank you so much!" Demora was absolutely delighted. Nakita, however, was simply staring at hers.

Uhura hesitated, not sure of what to say. What _did_ a person say when they got a gift for someone and that perhaps absolutely hated it?

Chekov cleared his throat. "Nakita?" He prompted.

She held her gift up so her father could see. "What does it say?" She asked, and Uhura was mortified. Of course the child was too young to read.

Chekov smiled at the girl. "Bedtime Stories from Around the World." He read.

Nakita stared up at Uhura with her father's eyes. "Thank you so very, very much." She said at last, clutching the book of bedtime stories. "Papa was running out of books in my room."

Uhura smiled, relieved, then turned her attention to the presents the children had given her. She unwrapped the gift from Demora first. It was a Christmas tree ornament, a snowflake made of multicolored beads. "Thank you, Demora. It's beautiful." The little girl's face shone with pride.

Next was the gift from Nakita. Uhura carefully unwrapped what turned out to be a tambourine. She shook it gently to hear it jangle. "Papa said you liked music." Nakita explained.

"I do. Very much. Thank you." Uhura replied.

Demora promptly opened her puzzle and dumped it on the floor. Sulu chuckled and went to join her. "You don't want to dump all the pieces out." He told her. "They get lost that way. Let me help you get them back in and then you can work from the box, okay?"

Meanwhile Nakita was climbing into Chekov's lap. "Read?" She partly asked, partly demanded. Chekov took the new book and turned to the first page.

They spent the rest of the morning like that, listening to Chekov read and helping Demora with her puzzle. All in all, Uhura thought, it was a good way to spend Christmas.

Disclaimer: Star Trek does not belong to me.


	4. Four: Kindergarten

Miss Andrea Richardson was the scourge of kindergarten. First graders spoke of the previous year in hushed whispers, their eyes haunted by memories of school days past. Second graders nodded sympathetically and tried to help the First graders deal with it all. Teachers refused to discuss her, embarrassed to think someone like her had ever become a teacher. Parents complained, and the new principal listened helplessly, bewildered as he tried to understand how someone like her had ever managed to get tenure.

Four year old Nakita Chekov glared up at her teacher from the chair where she sat with her arms crossed over her chest. Her teacher, Miss Richardson, stood towering over her, hands on her hips, glaring back, though not quite as fiercely.

Struggling to speak calmly, the red faced teacher jabbed a finger at several papers on the child's desk. "You can copy your alphabet like everyone else, young lady."

"No." Retorted the young girl. "I won't."

"Then you can stand in the corner." Miss Richardson informed her.

The girl shook her head fiercely, brown hair coming loose from her braid. "No." She repeated.

Her teacher picked her up and promptly set her down in the corner. Nakita glared at her, eyes flashing and fists clenched.

She stayed there until Miss Richardson turned her attention back to the other students, and then defiantly walked back to her seat.

Miss Richardson picked her up and put her in the corner again.

She didn't stay that time either.

Miss Richardson had had enough. "You can either stay in that corner," she informed the little brat sharply, "or you can go to the principal's office." She waited while the child actually appeared to think it over.

"No thank you." Nakita finally replied. She didn't move.

Miss Richardson had to practically drag her down the hall and into the office. When they stopped outside their destination, the girl stared up at her teacher with wide eyes. Then she opened her mouth and started screaming.

Her teacher merely stared at her. "Do I need to call your father?" She asked, and the child instantly stopped screaming and stuck out her tongue.

"I hate you." The child declared. "I never want to come back here again. I hope something eats you."

* * *

It didn't take long for either Principal Martin or Miss Richardson to realize that the dark haired man of obviously Asian descent was _not_ Mr. Chekov.

"May I help you?" The man asked politely.

"Who are you?" Miss Richardson demanded bluntly. Principal Martin winced, but the man before them didn't seem to notice.

"Hikaru Sulu." He replied easily. He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Were you looking for Pavel?" He asked.

"Uh, yes." Martin replied awkwardly. "Is the the wrong number, or-?" He trailed off uncertainly.

"No, sorry. We share an office." Sulu explained. "I'm afraid he's not in at the moment. May I take a message?"

"When will he be back?" Miss Richardson demanded, and again, Martin found himself wincing.

Sulu frowned. "Is this some sort of an emergency?"

"It's about his daughter." Miss Richardson snapped.

Something in Sulu's demeanor changed, but his voice remained even. "I'll let him know you called. I'm sure he'll be over as soon as possible." He said this almost pleasantly. The screen went blank.

Sulu had cut off the connection.

Principal Martin stifled a sigh. He had been hoping to iron out everything without bringing the parent here, or involving the child in what would undoubtedly end up being a shouting match.

He wondered why he'd ever agreed to take this position.

Thirty-five minutes later Pavel Chekov walked through the front door. He made a beeline straight for Principal Martin. "Vhere is she?" He asked shortly. "Vhat happened?" Martin wondered about the man's accent. The daughter seemed to speak without one.

"I'll tell you what happened!" Miss Richardson cut in before Martin could say a word. "That little brat of yours refuses to listen to a word anyone said, and then when she ended up being sent to the principal's office she started screaming and when I threatened to call her parents she said to go ahead and that she hoped something ate me."

Mr. Chekov eyed the woman with bewilderment. "And who are you?" He asked.

"Her teacher." Miss Richardson retorted. "And if you ask me-"

He waved her off. "I didn't ask you." He turned back to Principal Martin. "Vhere is my daughter?" He demanded.

"In the office." Martin replied wearily. "Now I'm sure we can all sit down and-" Chekov was already gone, disappearing through the door to his office.

By the time Martin and Richardson had caught up with him he was on his knees, arms wrapped around the little girl.

"Papa, I am alright!" She protested. "I'm okay."

Chekov looked her over before releasing her. "What happened?" He demanded, turning back to Martin. "Sulu said-" Martin realized what had happened.

Sulu had taken Miss Richardson's reply as confirmation that there was, in fact, an emergency. Martin groaned, and Chekov's eyes narrowed in response.

"There was a misunderstanding." He tried to explain. Chekov just stared at him. "Your daughter is fine. Miss Richardson just wanted to address some discipline issues she's been having with her."

"Oh?" Chekov replied, and Martin was suddenly worried. "Vhat sort of problems?" He asked, fixing his gaze on the child's teacher.

Miss Richardson was not about to be intimidated. "She refused to do her work. I told her several times to do it, and when she still refused I told her she could do it or stand in the corner. She refused to stay in the corner after I put her there, so I brought her here. Then she started screaming, so I threatened to call you. She said I was welcome to."

"I did not!" The child insisted hotly. Chekov turned his attention to his daughter as she continued unabashedly. "I told her I hated her and never wanted to come back here and I hope she gets eaten by something. And I stuck my tongue out at her."

Martin stared as the child's father replied mildly. "That's not wery nice."

"But it's true." The child retorted.

"Have you ever seen anyone be eaten alive?" Chekov asked. The child looked up at him for a minute, then shook her head. He continued. "Vell, I have, and it isn't pretty. I know you better than that. You vouldn't vant anyone to be eaten alive. Besides, it's rude to tell people you hate them."

"But she picked me up and dragged me here." The girl complained. "And she kept shoving me in the corner. I don't even know her, and she thinks she can carry me around like she was family or something."

_Something_ flashed in Chekov's eyes, but the man continued calmly. "But if you had listened in the first place, none of that would have happened." He told her.

Nakita scowled at her father. "But she wanted me to draw my alphabet letters and the ones on the paper weren't mine. And anyway, it's not the right hand." She insisted.

Martin noticed that this time, at least, Chekov was as confused as the rest of them.

"Vhat?" He asked.

The child sighed. "I'll show you." She said. "Come on." Chekov followed her, leaving the other two no choice but to follow him. She lead them back to the classroom, where Miss Richardson's aide was just taking all the other children outside for recess.

Nakita led her father over to her seat and held up the paper. "See? They aren't mine. They're Uncle Sulu's" Understanding seem to dawn in Chekov, and her father groaned.

"I'm an idiot." He announced. "Come here." He said, sitting down cross-legged on the floor. Nakita promptly climbed down out of the chair and into his lap. "Now." He said, taking the paper and her abandoned pencil. He quickly drew some of the strangest symbols Martin had ever seen on the back of her paper. "This is your alphabet, right?"

"Right." The child confirmed.

"And this other side," he continued, "is Sulu's, right?"

"Right."

He smiled down at the child. "So vhere do people use your alphabet? Do you remember?"

"Course." She replied. "Where Granpa lives."

"In-" He prompted.

"Russia."

"Right. Now vhere do people use Sulu's alphabet?" He asked, and Martin's jaw dropped as he began to understand the problem.

"In lots of places."

"Like?"

"Like the United States." The child supplied.

"And vhere is your school?"

"In the United States?" She asked hesitantly, looking up into her daddy's eyes for confirmation. Chekov nodded.

"So vich alphabet vould people in your school use?"

She was silent for a moment, thinking. Then her eyes went wide. "Oh." She said softly. "But it's still not the right hand."

Chekov frowned. "I don't understand." He said bluntly.

"The right hand." The girl repeated, taking the pencil from him, then putting it in her left hand to demonstrate. "It's not the right hand." She repeated, switching it back.

Oh, Martin realized. She was left handed. So was her father, he realized as the man also figured it out. He groaned as Chekov turned to eye Miss Richardson critically. This day was going from bad to worse.

"Honey," Chekov said finally, "next time you have a problem, vhy don't you try to explain it to your teacher so she can help you?"

"Okay." The little girl said.

"And listen to your teachers, right?"

"Yes, Papa."

"All right. Now do your vork."

"Yes Papa." The child sighed as Chekov turned and led the two adults from the room. He then carefully closed the door before advancing on Miss Richardson.

In less than a second he had backed her up against the wall and was standing with less than two inches of space between them. His expression was dark and his dark eyes were furious. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Miss." He said, his voice low and hard. "That girl in there is the only child I have, and if you ever, for any reason, so much as touch my daughter again, you'll wish you'd never been born."

And about the time Martin started wondering if he should step between them, the man took a step back.

"You can't threaten people like that, you know." Martin felt obliged to inform him, for Miss Richardson's sake. "I have to report this."

To Martin's surprise, Chekov turned to face him, a look of complete innocence on his face. "Report?" He repeated, questioning. "Report vhat?" His expression hardened. "The teacher who grabbed a child by the wrist roughly enough to leave a bruise? The misunderstanding that caused a professor at Starfleet Academy to cancel classes so he could deal with whatever emergency he thought was affecting his daughter?" He smiled again, sweetly, except for his eyes, which remained as angry as ever. "Your call." He turned, then, and strode quickly down the hall, leaving Principal Martin to deal with Miss Richardson.

And he would certainly deal with her, he decided. None of this should ever have happened.

Disclaimer: Star Trek does not belong to me.


	5. First Grade

"Papa?" Five year old Nakita Chekov was solemn, thoughtful. "We need to talk."

"Oh?" Chekov asked, laying aside the papers he had been grading. She climbed up into his now empty lap. "What about, pet?"

"About school." Nakita informed him seriously. "I don't think you should make me go anymore."

"And why not?" Chekov asked, trying to hide a smile. He was unsuccessful, and the little girl gave him a reproving look.

"Because I already know it." She told him. "I can already read, I can already count. I know my colors, my shapes, and my alphabet in English and Russian. Music class is just singing, and we do that at home. Art class is just drawing, and I do that at home too. Gym is just running around and throwing balls at each other and that kind of stuff, and we get plenty of exercise here, too. So there's just no reason for me to go to school, you see."

Chekov frowned thoughtfully. "You need to learn to get along with people, Nakita. School is also about learning to socialize with others."

She considered this. "I get along with Demora, and Uncle Hikaru, and Nyota. Besides, they're all _kids_ at school. All they want to do is play princess or wedding."

"The law says that you have to go to school." Chekov informed her.

"I know." She groaned. "But I was thinking, and I figured out what to do. You could teach me!" Her eyes lit up. "You already do anyway."

Chekov sighed. "I also work, sweetheart. I teach at the Academy while you're at school, remember?"

Nakita sighed. "Oh yeah." She said sheepishly. "I forgot. I could come to work with you." She suggested hopefully.

"You need to be around other children your age." Chekov insisted. "You need to learn to interact with all different types of people, because in life you have to live and work and deal with different types of people."

Nakita sighed again. "Okay, okay, I'll go to school. One condition." She held up her finger to demonstrate.

"What?" He asked nervously.

"I wanna meet Spock."

Chekov just looked at her for a minute. "I can't make any promises, pet, but I'll try. _If _you go to school and do your work and try to stay out of trouble."

"Deal." The girl agreed enthusiastically. A grin spread across her face. "I'm gonna meet Spock." She announced.

"Going to." Chekov corrected fondly as his little girl squealed and hugged him tightly. He smiled at her enthusiasm, but inwardly wondered if he really wanted to explain to Spock, or anyone from the _Enterprise_, about Nakita.

Not that he was ashamed, far from it. He loved his daughter more than anything. But he knew that if he tried to explain there was no way he would be able to hide the truth from them.

The truth that it had been four years since she had left and he still racked his brains for something he could have done differently to get her to stay.

The truth that he still, on occasion, cried himself to sleep, pillow to his face muffling the sounds he never wanted his daughter to hear.

The truth that he still felt lost without her, adrift.

The truth that he would never get over her.

He didn't want to explain because he didn't want them to know. He didn't want them to know because he didn't want them to feel sorry for him or say that it was a common occurrence in Starfleet these days. He didn't want them to worry about him when they read the loss in his eyes.

But he would take Nakita to meet Spock. It was something she wanted, if her bouncing in his lap and shrieking like a banshee was any indication.

And maybe some part of him really did want them to know after all.

Disclaimer: Star Trek does not belong to me.


	6. 2nd

Spock paused in his lecture for slightly less than a second, slightly surprised at the sight of a small human child among the sea of cadets. He was even more surprised to realize that she was sitting quietly, and possibly paying closer attention to him than most of the cadets around her.

He continued to watch her out of the corner of his eye as he resumed speaking. She sat almost completely still, save for fidgeting very slightly every now and again, her feet dangling over the edge of her chair. She was dressed in a huge turtleneck that hung down past her knees. She was also barefoot.

She watched him almost through the entire lecture, but fell asleep fifteen minutes before Spock finished. She woke up again as the cadets began to leave the lecture hall, looking around in almost a panic before she seemed to remember where she was. Carefully she stood up in her chair and began to look around.

Suddenly she had disappeared. Spock momentarily let her slip to the back of his mind as a few nervous cadets approached. They wished to speak with him.

"I really enjoyed your lecture." One young lady, a human, said nervously.

"Yeah." Added one of the others, this one also human. He swallowed rather loudly.

They wished to say more, Spock realized, but were uncertain how to do it. They were terrified of him, he noted. Jim would have been hard put to hide his laughter had he been here.

"Hi." A high voice cut through the tension, and the young girl slipped through the cadets. "You're really smart."

The cadets looked horrified, and one of them began to rebuke her. Spock spoke before the cadet could manage it, however.

"Thank you." He said. "Did you enjoy the lecture?"

She smiled up at him. Her smile was very familiar. "Yes." She said. "Most of it. I didn't understand a lot of it, and I kind of fell asleep at the end, but you have a very nice voice." She was silent for all of a second before she began talking again. "It is so awesome to meet you." She informed Spock. "I've been wanting to forever, but Papa said I had to behave in school and try to stay out of trouble, and that you were pretty busy."

"And have you behaved well in school?" Spock inquired.

"Mostly." She admitted. "I try. Sometimes things just happen."

"What grade are you in, miss?"

"Second." She beamed up at him. "I'm Nakita, by the way."

She giggled as he raised his hand in the Vulcan salute. "Live long, and prosper, Nakita."

She returned the gesture, and Spock lifted an eyebrow as she delivered the same salute in what was not too badly pronounced Vulcan.

The cadets were uncomfortable now; Spock realized they probably thought the child was bothering him. Or perhaps they felt she was taking up the time they had wanted to spend talking to him. It was hard to tell, sometimes.

Whatever the reason, one of them eventually tried to make her leave. "Why don't you find your parents and quit bothering Captain Spock? I'm sure your mommy is probably looking for you, kid."

The girl frowned at him. "Don't talk about my mama." She snapped, looking around. "And Papa said I could talk to him."

"And you have, so why don't you go back to Daddy and let the grownups talk?"

She scowled at him. "_Papa_ had work. He said for me to wait for him here."

Another cadet felt the need to get involved. "Your daddy left you here while he went to work?" She asked. Nakita nodded, as if it were a perfectly normal thing for a parent to do. "When does he get done?"

Nakita thought for a minute. "He said he would be here soon after the lecture ended, unless something came up."

"And he left you here, by yourself?" Again, the child nodded. The cadet frowned. "What kind of father drops his kid off alone at an Academy lecture for baby-sitting?" He asked. It was a rhetorical question, Spock knew by now.

Apparently, Nakita did not. "My papa is the best Papa in the world." She informed him. "And besides, Spock was here." Spock's eyebrow again went up.

"_Captain_ Spock is not here to babysit little brats." The cadet informed the girl sharply. "And where is your mommy? Does she know about this?"

Nakita crossed her arms and opened her mouth to reply. She didn't have to. "Her mother is not around anymore." Someone behind Spock said. He turned, and realized why the child seemed so familiar. Pavel Chekov scooped the child off the floor as if she were closer to two years old than six and eyed the cadet. "Her father was teaching a class down the hall, and would not have left her here, _Mister _Connolly, if he felt she would be in danger." There was a dark look in his eye as he spoke. "Dismissed."

"But, sir-"Connolly began.

"Dismissed." Chekov repeated sharply. "And make sure you get tonight's assignment from someone who actually showed up for class." The cadet retreated, and the others followed, wary of making the man angrier than he already seemed to be.

Spock found it interesting to note that while Chekov's burst of emotionalism would have barely been acknowledged, and certainly would have caused little concern in his shipmates, here it seemed to frighten cadets into distancing themselves quite a bit from the group.

"I see you've met my daughter." Chekov turned back to Spock, all previous displeasure apparently gone. "She's been pleading with me for months to let her come to this."

Spock nodded. "She seemed most interested in the lecture." He commented.

"She's been wanting to meet you." Chekov replied with a chuckle.

"Papa's told me so much about you and the others." Nakita piped up, and Chekov shrugged, amusement and embarrassment both shining in his eyes. "You guys are the coolest." She added, for good measure. "Can he come for dinner?" She asked suddenly. "Nyota and Uncle Hikaru are going to be there. Can he? Please? Please?"

Chekov hesitated. "I don't know if he can, sweetheart. He may be busy."

Spock tried to decide whether Chekov actually did not want him there, or thought Spock himself might not want to join them. "It would be agreeable to see Uhura and Sulu again." He said cautiously, and was rewarded with a spark of hope in both pairs of eyes. "As long as I will not be intruding…"

Chekov grinned. "You? Never, Spock."

As they left the hall, Chekov eyed his daughter. "First thing we need to do when we get home is get you into some decent clothes."

Nakita blushed. "I fell into a puddle on the way here." She mumbled, hiding her face in Chekov's chest. "Lucky, Papa always keeps himself a spare change of clothes here. He didn't have any extra shoes though."

"I don't think they would have fit you anyway." Chekov told her, and she burst into giggles. He let loose a giggle of his own, and shrugged to Spock in a half-serious apology for the emotional display.

Spock found himself looking forward to this evening.

Disclaimer: Star Trek does not belong to me.


	7. Dinner

"I'm sorry, could you get that, Mister Spock?" Chekov called from somewhere in the back of the house, presumably the bathroom, given the argument he was currently engaged in with his daughter. As Spock obligingly went to answer the door, he heard Chekov mutter, "Get in the tub."

"I don't want to. Spock's here, there's no time for washing! It'll take too long." The young human protested.

"It would take less time if you'd quit fighting me."

Spock opened the door and greeted Uhura. She didn't even blink in surprise, but smiled brightly at him. "Why, Mr. Spock." She greeted him. "I didn't know you were going to be joining us." She stepped inside just in time to hear Nakita shout.

"Help! He's trying to drown me!"

Uhura chuckled. "Don't you think you might have made sure she bathed earlier, Pavel?" She called.

In another room, Chekov grunted. "I did. She fell into a mud puddle on the way to the Academy. I told her all she had to do was get in the shower and rinse off, but-"

Nakita cut him off. "See! Nyota's here! It's too late for a bath!"

"I'll tell her to come back tomorrow, then." Chekov growled.

Uhura grinned at Spock before turning towards the back of the house. "We'll just go ahead and get dinner started, then, shall we?" She called to Chekov. "Come on, kitchen's this way." She said to Spock.

She led him confidently through the house and into the kitchen and began rifling through the refrigerator there without hesitation. "So have you met Nakita?" She asked conversationally.

Spock nodded. "She was present during the lecture I delivered at the Academy tonight." He informed her. "Afterward she came up to meet me."

"She's been very excited about meeting you." Uhura commented.

Spock hesitated. "I was not aware Chekov had a daughter." He said quietly. He was uncertain whether this was something that would be best left unmentioned in the presence of the young man or not.

Uhura sighed as she pulled out some vegetables. "Can you make a salad?" She asked. Spock nodded. She directed him to the counter, set out the lettuce, tomato, radishes, carrot, and cucumber. She also supplied him with a knife and a cutting board.

She turned her attention to filling a pot with water and setting it on the stove. "Did you know he was married?" She asked.

Spock opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment the doorbell rang. Uhura smiled apologetically. "I'll get it!" She announced as she disappeared into the living room.

She greeted Sulu and _his_ daughter. "Glad you made it. Nakita fell into a puddle, so Pavel's making her take a bath. Demora, why don't you-"

"She can play in my room!" Nakita shouted. "She's not like Ethan; she doesn't try to steal my stuff!"

"Thanks!" The child shouted back. "I won't make a mess, I promise." She assured Sulu.

"Come on, Hikaru." Uhura's voice was coming closer. "We have an extra guest." She entered the kitchen, then, Sulu slightly behind her.

Sulu was surprised. "Spock!" He said with a grin. "Good to see you again." Uhura smiled and went back to her pot of boiling water.

"I gave him your job." She said as she reached for a box of noodles. "You get to do the garlic bread."

"And you've taken Pavel's?"

Uhura shrugged. "Someone had to." She said easily. The three fell into silence as they prepared the meal. When Uhura spoke again, her voice was low. "He met a girl and fell head over heels in love with her. They got married. He _adored_ her. Practically worshipped the ground she walked on." She shook her head sadly.

Sulu picked up the story. "When Nakita was two years old, she left them both. Gone. No explanation, no warning. Completely disappeared." He said grimly. "I've never seen him such a wreck." After a moment he continued. "That's why he took the teaching job. So he could stay and raise her."

Uhura smiled reassuringly. "It's not taboo, but we don't bring it up often. You would not have been mistaken in asking him."

Sulu also smiled. "_We'd_ much rather you asked us, though." He supplied. "Pavel gets a bit gloomy when he thinks about her too much."

The man in question chose that moment to enter the kitchen. "Oh, you already started dinner." He said brightly. "And I see you met our dinner guest. I hope you don't mind."

Sulu rolled his eyes. "Demora's going to flip, and the girls will probably be staring at him all night, but other than that, why would we mind?"

Chekov laughed. "So what do I get to do?" He asked.

Uhura scowled at him. "Nothing. Sit down and relax. You do know how to do that, don't you?"

Chekov appeared to think about it for a minute. Finally he shook his head. "Nope. Never learned."

Sulu sighed as he placed a pan of bread in the oven. "I been trying to teach him, Nyota, but it just hasn't sunk in."

Uhura eyed Chekov critically. "Hmm. Well, he _can_ be rather thick-headed sometimes."

"Ha ha." Chekov retorted. "I'll set the table."

Dinner was soon ready, and true to Sulu's prediction, both of the children sat and stared at Spock. Chekov and Sulu seemed not to notice, but Uhura seemed to find it mildly amusing. Spock, for his part, tried not to acknowledge the attention as he contemplated the spaghetti before him.

"Did you get your book report finished?" Chekov asked his daughter. She nodded, then slurped up a rather long noodle.

"I finished reading it Tuesday. I finished writing it Thursday. Do you want to look over it before I turn it in on Monday?" Chekov shook his head.

"That won't be necessary." He said. "Unless you want me to." She shook her head.

"That's okay. You can see it when I get my grade on it."

"What book did you read?" Sulu asked. Nakita flashed him a bright smile.

"The one grandpa gave me." She said.

Sulu frowned. "Isn't that in Russian?" He asked cautiously.

"She didn't say the book had to be in English." Nakita explained to him patiently. "She just said a book, and that it had to be a chapter book. Besides, I'll probably get in trouble no matter what I do. Last time she didn't believe I'd actually read the book because it was 'too big' for a second grader." She rolled her eyes. "Why do people always have to treat me like a baby?"

"Because you're young." Chekov told her tolerantly. "And you're small for your age."

"Well, I don't like it." She declared.

Demora nodded. "Wait till you get into third grade. Then when you act like a kid they want you to act grownup, but when you act like a grownup, they actually want you to act like a kid. It's very confusing."

"So what do you do?" Nakita wanted to know. Demora shrugged.

"I just act like a kid _all_ the time. Then I only get in trouble for half the stuff I do."

Nakita giggled, then turned to Spock. "Did you go to school when you were little?" She asked. "Papa didn't. He was homeschooled."

"My dad went to school." Demora supplied.

"I went to school as well." Spock told them. "I did not, however, go to school on earth."

"Where did you go?" Nakita asked.

Demora sighed. "He went to school on Vulcan, silly!" She declared. "Right, Mr. Spock?"

Spock nodded. "I was born and raised on Vulcan. I did go to school there."

"Did you go to school, Nyota?" Uhura nearly spewed salad onto the table as she tried not to laugh. She managed to collect herself, however.

"Yes, I went to school when I was a child." Uhura replied. "And I didn't get into half as much trouble as you two did. Neither did Hikaru, for that matter."

"Uncle Hikaru says that's why Papa was homeschooled." Nakita said seriously. "He said that Papa was too much of a trouble-maker, that no school would have taken him. And Grandpa says that's why he never tried."

"My family traveled a lot when I was growing up." Chekov protested indignantly.

"Grandma says you were a monster." Nakita maintained. "She says you deserve me after all the trouble you gave them."

Sulu snorted at that. "Your Grandma's right." He informed her. "Pavel was just as unruly of a child in his time as you are now. I know, I've heard some of the stories."

"And those stories are _not_ going to be shared." Chekov said firmly. "We don't need to give her any ideas."

"Heavens no, Hikaru." Uhura agreed. "Please don't tell her."

Nakita frowned. "Why not? I want to know."

Sulu winked at her. "When you're older. I promise." She scowled at him in response. He only laughed.

Dinner proceeded in much the same way, with relaxed, idle chatter. Spock didn't mind. It was agreeable to be able to sit and listen to the conversation around him without being expected to constantly provide input. The people before him knew him, and had accepted him for who he was.

After dinner they went their separate ways; everyone, it seemed, had something to do in the morning, or they would likely have stayed even longer. Still, it had been pleasant, while it lasted.

Nakita smiled and waved at Spock from the window as he left.

* * *

Disclaimer: Star Trek does not belong to me.

Author's Note: So the plan, now that school's started up again, is to update once a week, but I'm not making any promises. I'll _try_. Also, please review, of course. Though I hardly need say it, you guys are great about letting me know what you think. It's so gratifying.


	8. 4th

Hikaru Sulu and Pavel Chekov shared an apprehensive glance. They sat on the bench outside of the principal's office, waiting for said principal to call them in. They weren't exactly certain _what_ the problem was, but knew it couldn't be good.

Inside the office sat two young girls, one nine and the other eleven. They also exchanged an apprehensive glance as they sat in the chairs in front of the principal's desk. _They_ knew what the problem was, and they also knew what they would actually be in trouble for.

You didn't get into enough trouble to have your father called from work. Not if you were Demora Sulu or Nakita Chekov. Not if your father taught at Starfleet Academy. Especially not if you wanted to live a semi-normal life at your school in spite of the fact that your father was well-known as a former part of the crew of James T. Kirk of the starship _Enterprise._

Demora and Nakita exchanged another glance. They were in for it, and they knew it. Why the principal felt the need to draw this out, they had no idea. The sooner they got this over with, the better.

The principal finally walked over to the door and opened it. "Mr. Chekov? Mr. Sulu?" He said. "You may come in now."

Nakita slumped forward in her seat as the two entered the office. Demora, in contrast, pulled herself up straight in hers.

Wordlessly the fathers went to their own seats. They waited for the principal to sit down before they seated themselves.

"Now, Mr. Garfunkle, what seems to be the problem?" Uncle Hikaru asked, and Nakita wondered who she should feel sorry for. It was never a good sign when the two men worked as a team, and Papa had clearly chosen to let Uncle Hikaru be the spokesman for the two of them, at least for the time being.

Principal Garfunkle cleared his throat. "Well, we seem to be having a problem with your children." He said calmly, trying to sound professional. Nakita wondered if he knew who he was talking to.

Papa took this one. "Vhat sort of problem?" Nakita still found the heavy accent Papa donned when dealing with most people somewhat amusing, but managed to hide her smile. She didn't need to _look_ like she was proud of what she'd done.

Principal Garfunkle blinked. The accent had caught him by surprise. Of course it would, Nakita didn't have one. Of course, Nakita also didn't feel the need to suggest to other people that her cultural background was different from theirs. It may have been, but she had been exposed to enough different cultures already that she could adapt almost effortlessly. Of course, _she_ had been raised in San Francisco with her father and had known people of all sorts of backgrounds, whereas Papa had been raised in Russia.

That aside, she just wanted to be a normal kid for now. That was hard to do with a put on Russian accent.

Nakita was so wrapped up in her thoughts she nearly missed Principal Garfunkle's reply. "They seem to have attempted to incite a mass rebellion during the lunch hour."

Papa raised an eyebrow, but it was Uncle Hikaru who spoke next. "_Seemed_ to? Or _did_?" They were taking turns talking, Nakita realized. _Someone_ was in for it.

Principal Garfunkle cleared his throat. "They tried to cause a rebellion." He said, a little uncertainly. Those two could be intimidating even when they weren't trying to be.

When Papa spoke next, it was to utter only one word. "Oh?"

"Yes." The principal affirmed. "They convinced the entire lunchroom to dump their lunches and stand in line with their backs to the walls, arms crossed over their chests, in absolute silence." He swallowed, trying to keep his composure. Apparently he found Papa and Uncle Hikaru unnerving.

Nakita found this unnerving too. She still hadn't figured out if they were actually in trouble or not. She didn't dare look at Demora until she knew, and then only if they weren't.

Uncle Hikaru frowned. "So they refused to eat?" He asked uncertainly.

"Or sit down." Papa supplied.

The principal nodded. "Even after the lunch bell rang, they didn't move. They wouldn't go to class. None of them. Not one student. They're still out there, waiting for who knows what. _These two_," he nodded towards Nakita and Demora, "only came when I informed them I was calling their parents."

"Vhy?" Papa asked.

Principal Garfunkle faltered. "I don't _know_ why." He said. "I've asked, but-"

Uncle Hikaru waved him off. Papa wasn't talking to the principal. Uncle Hikaru knew that, Demora knew that, and Nakita certainly knew that. She knew exactly who he _was_ talking to as well.

He was asking her.

Why?

She forced herself to meet his eyes. He was waiting for her explanation before casting judgement. She wondered if he would be disappointed in her. She took a deep breath to steady herself.

"We were protesting." She said. An eyebrow went up, something that Nakita had only recently realized Papa had learned from a certain Vulcan.

"What were you protesting?" Uncle Hikaru asked. Demora wasn't getting out of this either.

She swallowed nervously, but held her head high. "We were protesting the treatment of one of our fellow students by a member of the staff."

This probably would have gone on, with the parents asking the questions and the girls offering just enought to answer exactly what had been asked but no more, but Nakita couldn't manage formality as well as her cousin. "It was Mr. Washburn." She clarified.

"And Ethan." Demora added, not to be left out.

"He didn't finish his test-"

"He takes forever to get them done-"

"And it was lunch time-"

"It's not his fault-"

"He gets test anxiety-"

"But Mr. Washburn said if he wasn't finished he couldn't have lunch-"

"And that's just cruel. You can't deprive a kid of their lunch-"

"And Ethan started to cry-"

"And Mr. Washburn called him a crybaby and told him if he was going to act like a baby he could go have class with the third graders."

"So we decided to protest. If Ethan couldn't have lunch, we weren't going to either." Demora finished up indignantly. Nakita's eyes flashed; she too found such behavior intolerable.

Papa sighed. "So you encouraged the entire school to rebel against the authority here." He said. "How are they going to teach you if the entire school thinks they don't have to listen to the teachers?"

"But-" Nakita opened her mouth to protest, but couldn't think of an argument.

Demora came to her rescue. "But it's not right." She declared.

"So you're going to fix it?" Uncle Hikaru demanded. Demora balked.

"Are you the best people to fix this problem?" Papa demanded. "Vas this the best vay to address it?"

"Well-" Nakita scowled at her father. "But _somebody_ had to do _something."_

"You?" Papa asked. "That?"

"What happens the next time someone doesn't like what their teacher does?" Uncle Hikaru asked. "Then what? What makes that time different from this?"

"Um-" Demora couldn't think of any good replies either, apparently.

"Think about the possible repercussions of your choices before you act." Papa told them sternly.

"Yes, Papa." Nakita replied. Demora nodded in agreement.

"And no more rebellions." Uncle Hikaru added.

"Yes, father." This time it was Demora who spoke, and Nakita who nodded.

The two men exchanged one last glance, and Nakita was very afraid. Papa smiled at the girls, and a shiver ran down her spine.

"Oh, and by the vay, you two are both grounded." Uncle Hikaru hid a smile of his own; the girls groaned.

"Grounded?" Demora repeated. "From what?"

This time Uncle Hikaru did smile. "From each other." He clarified. "That's where all the trouble usually starts, after all."

Nakita shared a mournful sigh with her cousin. "For how long?" She asked.

"A veek."

"A week?" There was no way they would last a week. It was inhuman. Demora plainly agreed, but it was just as plain that she wasn't going to say so. Nakita wasn't planning on it either.

"Yes, a week." Confirmed Uncle Hikaru. "Now go tell the rest of the school that the protest is off and that it is not the student's place to question a teacher's authority. That rules are to be upheld."

"Can we go together?" Demora asked timidly. Uncle Hikaru barely managed not to roll his eyes, and Papa completely failed to hide his amusement.

"Da," he agreed amiably, "and after that, then your grounding starts."

As they darted out of the office and down the hall, Demora took a quick glance over her shoulder. "Do you think the principal's in trouble for calling them?"

Nakita shook her head. "No, I don't think so." After a moment she added, "But I bet he won't be in a hurry to do it again any time soon."

* * *

Disclaimer: Star Trek does not belong to me.


	9. 5th

Nine year old Nakita Chekov stood and prepared to read her report to the class. The students' assignment had been to write a brief paper on one of their relatives, someone who had lived an interesting life. Then they were to read their papers aloud in front of the class. This announcement had caused quite a bit of concern in the fifth grade classroom, but most of the fifth graders had given their reports, and no one had died yet.

Far from being nervous, Nakita actually seemed excited. She had always been a rather outgoing child, though at the same time rather private. She didn't talk much about her parents, or her family, or anything immensely personal. Her teacher had actually been wondering how she would react to this assignment.

But she seemed to actually enjoy the idea of telling everyone in the class about someone in her family. Now she stood straight and tall, eager and ready. She cleared her throat, and began to speak.

"I chose to write about my uncle, Hikaru Sulu." She said in explanation, and her teacher frowned. He said nothing, though, and she began to read. "Uncle Hikaru is not really my uncle." She read. "But up until last spring, I thought he was. Last spring was when my best friend and cousin, Demora, got into a fight with her teacher because her teacher said that my Papa wasn't really her uncle. So Uncle Hikaru and Papa had to explain to her that they weren't really brothers."

She took a breath and continued. "Uncle Hikaru grew up in San Francisco. He was an only child, but spent a lot of time with his Grandpa. When he grew up, he decided to go to Starfleet Academy. He wanted to be the captain of a starship one day. While there he met my Papa, and they became best friends."

"When Uncle Hikaru graduated, he got a position on the _Enterprise_. He worked for Captain Kirk. Eventually he and my Papa got jobs on the same ship, and they were still best friends there too. They eventually got to be such good friends that their families said they were like brothers, and it kind of stuck. So when Uncle Hikaru got married and had a daughter, and Papa had me, they were so close that for a long time Demora and I thought they were brothers and that we were cousins.

"When Uncle Hikaru's wife died, he started teaching so he could be home to take care of Demora. He plans to go back into space when she gets old enough. He still hopes to be a captain someday."

Nakita smiled at the class and turned her paper in. Her teacher stared at her as she sat back down. Was it possible she was actually that close to the famous Hikaru Sulu? Close enough that she called him her uncle?

She had never mentioned this before, and most kids her age would have been bragging about it as soon as they understood the significance of such a relationship. But she acted as if it meant nothing, as if it were just plain, everyday knowledge.

He wondered if she could really be that oblivious, or if it simply didn't matter to her. He tried to push away the thought that she might simply have made it up rather than tell her class something true about her family.

But that would imply that there were things going on at home that she did not want anyone to know about. Her teacher frowned as the thought occurred to him.

She seemed such a happy child, though. She certainly seemed to have no fear of self-expression. She was not afraid for people to know she felt happy, or sad, or excited or worried, or angry. She seemed confident and intelligent.

Her teacher said nothing about it, but continued to worry through the day. When at last the final bell had rung and it was time for the students to go home, he stopped her.

"Yes, sir?" She asked, a bit puzzled, but not too worried. She obviously could not think of any reason she might be in trouble, and therefore felt she he had nothing to worry about. Her eyes, always so amazingly readable, were free of guilt, free of concern.

"Do you ride the bus?" He asked her. She shook her head.

"My Papa usually picks me up," she replied, "and we walk home. It's not very far, just a couple of blocks."

Here was a chance to meet this young lady's father. That might at least calm a few of his concerns. "I'd like to speak with your father, if it were possible." He informed her.

She frowned, thinking. "I'm not in trouble for something, am I? Cause I haven't done anything."

He laughed. "No, certainly not." He reassured her.

Her expression cleared. "Okay. He's been wanting to meet you anyway." This last statement made _him_ worry as he followed her out to the gym where parents usually picked up their children after school.

"He's late." She said later, when they had been waiting for about fifteen minutes. "I hope nothing's wrong."

He frowned. "Would something be wrong?"

Nakita shrugged. "Papa's usually right on time when he picks me up, unless something's happened." She thought for a moment. "I hope he's okay."

He was going to ask why she worried that her father might be hurt, but suddenly Nakita laughed and took off across the gym.

She was talking to a dark haired man when he caught up with them. "He asked me to come and pick you up." The man was explaining. "I would have been here sooner, but someone-" he shot a reproving glace at the other girl standing with them, "was being kept after class for trying to incite a rebellion in the classroom."

The older girl groaned. "But she's the worst teacher ever!" She protested. "Should we have to stand for such treatment? We've tried reasoning with her, we've tried just doing what we're told, but it's done no good! Nothing ever satisfies her. Something had to be done, for the good of not just her current students, but for the good of all her future students as well!"

The girl's father looked both amused and exasperated at the same time. "You've been reading too much historical fiction." He told her. "And mutiny is a court-martial offence, Demora."

Demora scowled. "I'm not in Starfleet yet." She grumbled, but the admonition had had its effect.

Nakita laughed. "Still, she _is_ a troll. I just hope I'm never in her class." She seemed to notice her teacher's presence, then. "Sorry, Papa's busy. He couldn't come today."

She turned to Demora and her father. "This is my teacher, Mr. Beils." She introduced him.

The other man smiled. "We've heard a lot of good things about you, sir." He shook Beils' hand cordially. "Sorry Pavel couldn't be here, he's been wanting to meet you."

Nakita frowned. "Well, if he'd come to the Parent/Teacher Conference night he could."

The older man sighed. "And he already feels terrible about it." He reminded her.

"I know. I know." She too sighed. "I don't want him to feel bad. And I don't want him to miss his class. I just wish he could come."

"I know." The man sympathized.

"Anyway," Nakita said, pushing the thought away and turning back to Beils, "this is Uncle Hikaru. That's my cousin Demora."

The teacher stared at the man before him, surprised he hadn't realized it before. The man standing before him with such a commanding air could only be Hikaru Sulu, formerly of the Starship _Enterprise_. He gaped, though he knew it was hardly polite.

So the girl had been telling the truth after all. Hikaru Sulu really _was_ that close to her and her father. And she clearly didn't think it was a big deal.

Then something else clicked. _Sorry Pavel couldn't be here,_ Sulu had said.

_Pavel Chekov._

This girl, who was treated like everyone else, who apparently _preferred_ to be treated like everyone else, was the daughter of Pavel Chekov and the unofficially adopted niece of Hikaru Sulu.

These men were legends, almost as famous as their Captain and his First Officer. And Chekov's daughter was in his class. Was his student.

Demora's soft giggle brought him out of his revelation. "Demora." Her father scolded.

"I'm sorry." She apologized to the teacher. "It's just that you were doing that thing."

Beils frowned. "Thing?" He repeated.

Nakita rolled her eyes as Demora replied. "That thing most people do when they realize who our parents are." She explained. "They freak out. Especially teachers. As if they thought Dad or Uncle Pasha were going to kill them for giving their kids detention or something."

"Don't worry." Nakita added brightly. "They wouldn't do that. And anyway, you're a good teacher, so even if they did do stuff like that, you wouldn't have to worry." She flashed him a bright smile.

Sulu allowed a soft chuckle. "Nice to meet you, sir." He said easily. "But we're already running late, so I'm afraid we need to get going."

"Of course." Beils nodded. "Pleased to meet you as well."

"Bye." Nakita told him as she left with Hikaru Sulu and his daughter.

"Goodbye. See you in class tomorrow." He replied. He shook his head as he watched the three of them leave as if they were just any other normal family.

He was still shaking his head when one of his fellow teachers stopped to ask why he was still staring at the gym door.

Disclaimer: Star Trek does not belong to me.


	10. 6th

Author's note: So what do you think? Should I do dinner? Let me know!

* * *

Scotty was not entirely sure what had just happened. One minute he had been standing there, catching up with Pavel Chekov, who he had not seen for far too long, and the next he had been debating running for cover as a cry of alarm and warning reached his ears.

"Look out, Pavel!" Scotty recognized the voice as belonging to one Hikaru Sulu, and knew from years of serving with the man that anything that could make the reserved navigator shout like _that_ was something to be wary of.

Chekov turned; a second later two half-sized blurs slammed into him. He had all the presence of mind to emit an "Oof!" as he went down.

Scotty stared as Chekov raised an eyebrow at the two girls who were now scrambling to their feet and offering a mix of apologies, greetings, and who knew what else. He remained where he was, uncertain how to react, as Chekov climbed lightly to his feet and began chattering as excitedly as the two girls.

Sulu was smiling as he came to stand beside Scott. He, at least, did not seem to think there was anything unusual about the exchange going on only a few feet away. Slightly reassured by Sulu's apparent lack of concern over the situation, Scotty resigned himself to joining the man in waiting for Chekov to remember he was there.

"You haven't met the girls yet, have you?" Sulu asked as Chekov seemed to suddenly be arguing with the younger of the two girls, a lass with a braid of long brown hair that seemed to be sporting pink streaks throughout it.

Scotty could only shake his head as he tried to decide if that meant that at least one of these girls belonged to one of the men present. He tried to remember if anyone had ever mentioned either man having children.

"Demora." Sulu called, and the older, dark-haired lass looked their way. "Come here while they're discussing her hair. I want to introduce you to someone."

The lass had to be Sulu's, Scotty decided. She looked just like him. "Hi." She greeted him cheerfully. "You must be Mr. Scott." She continued talking before he could confirm her guess. "I've met almost everyone else. That's Nakita. She put pink highlights in her hair. She thought it would be pretty. Dad told her she should probably ask Uncle Pasha first, but she's pretty stubborn."

"I am not!" The lass in question retorted. "And anyways, it's not like I'm rebelling or anything. I just wanted to see what I'd look like with pink hair." To Chekov she said, "I can change it back if you don't like it."

Chekov shrugged. "I don't have a problem vith it, dear." He told the girl. "It's the rest of the family that might be concerned."

The girl stared at the man that Scotty was rapidly becoming convinced was _her _father. "Really?" She demanded, a smile breaking across her features. "We're going to see Granpa?"

Chekov nodded. "For a week." He told her. The girl promptly shrieked and hugged him with enough force to nearly knock him over.

"Can Demora come?" She wanted to know next. "Is Uncle Hikaru coming?"

Chekov grinned and shrugged. "I don't know the answer to that yet. Ve have to talk about it first."

"Talk about it now!" The girl suggested, excited. "Demora and I will just stand here and talk to this guy."

Demora sniffed. "This _guy_ is Mr. Scott." She informed the younger girl importantly.

The girl was unfazed. "I'm Nakita." She announced as she propelled Chekov towards Sulu before coming to stand next to Demora. "That's my Papa." She said, gesturing towards Chekov. "I haven't seen him _forever_." She added dramatically.

"He has classes." Demora scolded. "He had to go do some sort of field trip type thing."

"It's a training exercise, Demora." Nakita corrected her friend. "They don't have field trips at the Academy."

"Sometimes they do." Demora defended herself, before addressing Scotty again. "Want to go to dinner with us? We're going out to eat to celebrate."

"We're going to go get tacos, though." Nakita added. "So if you don't like them, you should probably not come. Not that we don't want you along." She added quickly. "If you like tacos, you should totally come."

Scotty was both impressed by the immediate acceptance the girls seem to have of their fathers' friends and touched that they would invite him to come along when they were apparently celebrating Chekov's return from a several week exercise.

"I'd love ta go, Lassies, but maybe ye should ask yer Das before ye start inviting people along wit' ye."

"We can't ask them right now." Nakita explained patiently. "Papa's trying to convince Uncle Hikaru to go with us."

"And anyway," Demora added quickly, "they won't mind."

"Don't mind vhat?" Chekov wanted to know as he and Sulu rejoined the group.

"If Scotty joins us for tacos." Sulu guessed. Chekov made a face.

"Tacos?" He wanted to know. "Who's idea vas that?" His gaze fell on his daughter, who smiled innocently up at him. He smiled back down at her and chuckled. She beamed at him, certain that she had won.

"See?" Demora tried to assure Scotty, "He's more worried about the tacos than us inviting people along. There's nothing to worry about."

Sulu shook his head. "You're still supposed to ask before you invite people." He told his daughter. Then he grinned at Scotty. "Still, you're more than welcome to come, as long as you don't mind hearing Pavel complain about coming home and having to eat tacos."

"I'd be delighted." Scotty replied.

* * *

Disclaimer: Star Trek definitely does not belong to me, but wouldn't it be cool if it did?


	11. Chapter 11

"Quiero un burrito frijoles con queso y crema." Nakita rattled off to the waiter. Scott was impressed as the girl donned an accurate accent as she switched languages. "Sin salsa y sin cebollas, por favor."

"Mi tambien," Demora added cheerfully, "pero, me gusta muchas cebollas, por favor, senior."

The waiter turned to Sulu, who grinned sheepishly. "I would like the chicken with rice, please."

"Pollo con arroz." Demora whispered to her father, and Chekov buried his face behind his menu.

The waiter continued taking orders, and Scott was partly relieved and partly amused when Chekov ordered the 'camerones del diablo' with an accent that was less Russian than usual but still not very Spanish. He himself settled for a chicken quesadilla and tried to remember if either Sulu or Chekov had ever mentioned having a family.

"Did you decide?"Nakita demanded as they waited for their food. "Are they coming? When are we leaving for Grandpa's? Demora's been practicing her Russian."

"Dad says I'm better than he is." Demora announce proudly. Sulu rolled his eyes.

"We really should stop feeding them sugar." Chekov declared, winking at Scotty. The two girls' eyes went wide and their jaws clicked shut.

The silence lasted for about six seconds.

"So are you going with us?" Nakita demanded of Sulu, who chuckled. Chekov, on the other hand, let loose a burst of laughter that startled the couple at the next table over but was not in the least surprising to anyone seated at their table.

"I'm writing a book." Nakita announced.

"I'm _reading_ one." Demora felt obligated to add for good measure. Nakita poked the other girl in the arm, and Demora retaliated by poking her back.

Chekov and Sulu ignored the girls as they were quickly distracted by their apparent need to sit poking each other back and forth.

"Glad to be home?" Sulu asked Chekov.

"Defintely." Chekov agreed. "So you vill go vith us?"

Sulu grinned. "And miss out on a chance to let my daughter loose on your family?"

Chekov made a face. "I don't know who to vorry for: the girls or eweryone else."

* * *

Disclaimer: Star Trek does not belong to me (sigh).


End file.
